Page 27 of Of Steel and Scale

I instinctively raised my hands, fire flickering across my fingertips, even though I doubted I’d ever be able to flame hot enough to toast a drakkon her size.

You still have one drakkling, I quickly said.She still needs help.

For several minutes she didn’t move, but the wash of her anger gradually faded, and my breathing eased.

Come, she said.Help.

And your drakkling?

No hurt you.

I unslung the pack and cautiously moved forward. A golden head slipped under the queen’s neck, and the little female watched my approach with interest, her gaze intent. It rather reminded me of a spider waiting for just the right moment to pounce on its prey. There was certainly no fear in the backwash of her emotions I was receiving via my connection with the queen, but then, she hadn’t really learned to fear us. The queen had because she’d been alive—if very young—in the bad days.

I walked under the queen’s neck; she shifted, and one massive talon came a little too close for comfort. I sucked in a breath, my pulse rate stuttering for several beats as I forced my feet on. I trusted the queen, but in truth, I was little more than a gnat that could be so easily squashed by one unintended movement.

I came out from under her neck and paused to study her drakkling. The wound on the female’s chest was even bigger than it first appeared, and would need to be closed to help it heal. From the little interaction I’d had with injured drakkons, they appeared to heal fast, but I doubted one so young could easily repair a wound so deep I could shove most of my arm into it.

And she certainly wouldn’t be able to heal the broken wing. One of the reasons the ballistas had been so successful was because they’d targeted the massive wingspan of the drakkons, bringing them to ground and making them easier to dispatch.

The drakkling snaked her head down and rested it on the ground in front of me, her dark eyes gleaming with sorrow and curiosity. I hesitated, and then slowly reached out to scratch the ridge above her eyes. She jerked back in surprise, her teeth bared in warning. The queen made a low sound deep in her throat, and the little female tilted her head, studying me. Then she lowered it again. I accepted the invitation and scratched the eye ridge one more time. A low sound rumbled from her—pleasure.

I glanced up at the queen.Will it scare her if I talk directly to her?

Gria.

I blinked.Her name is Gria?

Yes.

I don’t know why it surprised me that drakkons had names. They were at least on par intelligence-wise with humans and, for us, names had always been a means of not only differentiating one person from another, but often also their location and ancestry.

Do you have a name?

She studied me for a moment.Kaia.

I’m Bryn. I immediately widened my mind beam and then added,Gria,I need to come closer and look after your wounds.

She once again jerked back in surprise, her head snapping left and then right, as if looking for the source of the sound inside her mind. The queen rumbled again and, after a moment, the drakkling said,Hurt.

Yes.

Fix?

I’ll try. I hated to think what the queen would do if she lost both of them. Given the time it took young drakkons to mature and Kaia’s age, she had, at best, only one breeding cycle left.Lift head.

Gria immediately did so. I walked under her neck and studied the thick, gaping wound. She was lucky in that it appeared no major arteries or muscles had been hit, but one thing was obvious—no mere feather had caused this. Whether it was a claw or something else, I couldn’t say. I’d certainly ask the queen that question later, but right now, Gria was still losing too much blood for comfort.

I moved on to her left wing. Two of the main phalanges had multiple breaks. I could certainly straighten and brace them, and then repair enough of the membrane to give her flight, but she wouldn’t be able to fly far. The Red Ochre Mountains would be well out of her reach. I continued checking the rest of her body, seeing multiple slashes that spoke of the metal feathers. The leathery membrane on her right wing was loose and flapping, but that was an easy enough fix.

Ifthere was enough sealer spray in the pack, that was. One spray bottle might serve the needs of a dozen soldiers, but whether I could ever carry enough to look after Gria’s wounds, let alone the queen’s, was doubtful.

I walked back under her neck. First things first—I needed to stop this wound bleeding so profusely, otherwise there’d be little point in repairing the rest.

I squatted and opened the pack. There were a dozen bottles of both the antiseptic and the wound sealer spray, and at least six bone straps. Enough to get her off the ground and mobile, perhaps, but nowhere enough to look after the queen.

Am good,the queen said, obviously following my thoughts.Gria unsafe on ground.

I automatically looked around. While there were no known predators around these parts, it wasn’t unusual for farmers seeking to replenish stock or hunters after longhorn meat to be out here. Both would certainly view a stranded drakkon as a prize. The ballistas might have fallen silent, but there was no law against hunting drakkons, and the ivory in their claws and horns was still greatly valued for medicine and even jewelry in some wilder parts of Arleeon.

---